


Somebody Should

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Dressing Room Sex, Frottage, Get together fic, M/M, Praise Kink, blowjob, mild dirty talk, slight roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Take care of me. Somebody should. I'm pretty good.Seth and Bill, after an especially good night on Weekend Update.





	Somebody Should

**Author's Note:**

> listen this is just pure filth, and also my first attempt at writing Bill and Seth as the main focus of a fic (as opposed to a side pairing like in my last Chost fic). the idea grabbed me and would've leave me alone, so here we are! be gentle.
> 
> big thanks to Hannah for beta'ing! 
> 
> Enjoy.

Seth follows Bill off the stage once the camera cuts. 

Bill glances over his shoulder and gives Seth a sweet, shy smile, and doesn’t say a word. It’s not exactly unusual for them to wander off together, particularly when neither of them has a sketch up next or any time soon. Seth knows tonight, he and Bill are both off the hook for the remaining sketches, so he feels no guilt staying hot on Bill’s heels until they reach the dressing room marked _Hader_. 

“Tonight was good,” Bill says as they slip inside. He’s fussing with his gelled down hair, beelining for the mirror against one wall. “Best yet, even.”

“You say that every time,” Seth replies, like he usually does. Bill isn’t wrong, though; Stefon was a hit tonight, and Seth feels privileged to be part of such a winning bit. “You were great,” Seth adds. It’s not exactly necessary, but he likes the pink that splashes over Bill’s cheeks in the mirror. He’s still fussing with his hair and Seth wants to tell him to stop.

Instead, Seth says, “You’re always good, Stefon.” The words tumble from his lips without his permission but he doesn’t take them back.

For a moment, Bill stiffens in the mirror, then his lips spread into a grin and he turns on his heel. It’s a pretty little twirl, arms spread at his sides to keep him balanced. He saunters back to Seth, who’s pressed up against the closed dressing room door. It’s fascinating, watching this switch flip. Bill is awkward and shy and sweet—Stefon is the kind of man who struts, even just a half dozen steps, and crowds Seth against the door.

It’s all a bit, a gag, a joke, but Seth’s pulse is hammering in his throat and he tilts his head back to look up at Bill. 

“You think so?” Bill asks in Stefon’s low, lisping voice. 

Seth nods. “Very good,” Seth says approvingly. 

Bill shivers and Seth can feel every quake of it, with how close they are. There’s a blush on his cheeks and a glint in his eyes and Seth feels drunk, even when he knows he’s stone cold sober. “Yeah?” Bill asks. 

Seth nods again. Unbidden, his hands find Bill’s hips and squeeze, and he’s rewarded with Bill’s hips jerking forward. “Good,” Seth starts. He loses a bit of his nerve as the next word dies on his tongue, but Bill licking his lips gives him courage again. “My good boy.”

Bill _melts_ against him and presses him against the door. “Fuck, Seth,” he says with a shudder, and there’s no character lilt to his voice.

Seth’s head is swimming and Bill is _right there_ and Bill is panting like Seth is giving him everything he could want. He detaches a hand from Bill’s hip to stroke his hair instead; it doesn’t quite work so smoothly, all the gel and product keeping it stiff, but Bill pushes into the touch like a needy cat. “Is that what you want to hear?” Seth asks in a voice barely above a whisper.

Bill leans back enough to stare at him, wide-eyed. His mouth hangs open slightly and his chest is heaving and he looks conflicted, aroused, scared—Seth can relate. 

“Yes,” Bill says eventually. A whimper. “Yes,” he says again and licks his lips.

Seth kisses him, helpless to do anything else, and finally gets Bill to take a few staggering steps back. They keep going until they hit the lumpy couch at the other side of the dressing room and tumble onto it. Seth slots easily between Bill’s long, gangly legs, and kisses along his slightly stubbled chin, his quivering throat. 

“So good, such a good boy for me,” Seth mumbles. He’s not exactly a newbie to stuff like this, but the fact it’s Bill underneath him, the fact that he’s spewing all this nonsense (genuine sentiments but nonsense all the same) just to feel Bill’s erection against his hip is _dizzying_. “Putting on such a lovely show for our fans, yeah?”

Bill shudders and arches his back; Seth’s hands go immediately to Bill’s stomach. He skims over the faint treasure trail of hair and them moves his hands up, shoving the Ed Hardy shirt out of the way as he goes. On a whim, he lets his fingertips brush Bill’s nipples and swallows the answering moan. 

“Slipping me the tongue on stage,” Seth mumbles as the sensation of Bill’s tongue gliding across his bottom lip on live television comes back to him. “Filthy, Stefon.”

Bill whines and tilts his head back, spilling gasps into the stuffy air of the fitting room. “Fuck, Seth,” he gasps. One hand is curled tight around Seth’s shoulder, grip almost hard enough to hurt; his other is thrown along the back of the little couch and his fingers grasp absently at the fabric. 

“My perfect, wonderful, fucking _filthy_ boy,” Seth growls. He kisses Bill again but only lets it deepen for a moment before trailing kisses along Bill’s jaw, down his neck, to the sweat-tinged hollow of his collarbone. His brain is spinning at saying these things to _Bill_ of all people, Bill who can’t handle compliments, deflects attention whenever possible, swears up and down that he’s not talented, just _lucky_.

But as Seth leans back to admire the flush mottling Bill’s face and the desperate bob of his adam’s apple, and the way his erection is pressing at the front of his black skinny jeans against Seth’s own cock, tenting his slacks… Seth can’t help but think things like _beautiful_ and _perfect_ and _so fucking talented_ and _oh god, I’m in love with Bill_.

Seth smothers his gasp of surprise against Bill’s neck and bites down instead of speaking. Bill knots a hand in his hair and writhes against him. Their cocks grind together between their bodies. Seth has half a hand to get both their pants open and wrap a hand around their erections, but that would require stopping his torment of Bill’s nipples and that’s a sacrifice he just can’t make. 

“Seth,” Bill hisses. “C’mon, let me, let me touch you.” 

Seth shakes his head. “Later,” he promises. “Don’t wanna move.” Other than to roll his hips against Bill’s, at least. 

Bill makes no further argument. His eyes flutter and a wanton moan trips from his lips and he grinds against Seth, hips working faster and faster as he chases his pleasure. “Wanted this,” Bill manages to say, “Wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” Seth replies before crashing down to kiss Bill again. It’s messy and biting, sloppily off-center. 

Bill keens into the kiss, wraps his arms around Seth’s shoulders, and goes stiff against him.

Seth holds his breath to focus on the feeling of Bill coming: the tension in his body from shoulders pressed against the couch to knees locked around Seth’s hips; the hot pulse of his cock against Seth’s as come stains the jeans. He only breathes out when Bill sinks into the couch, clearly left boneless by the force of his orgasm.

“Christ,” Seth murmurs. “You’re fucking stunning, Bill.”

Bill turns his face and Seth knows the other man is feeling embarrassed, bashful. He looks back at Seth with a sheepish grin and then plants a hand against Seth’s chest to push him back. Mind hazy with pleasure and his cock heavy behind the fly of his slacks, Seth goes back willingly. He lets Bill arrange him as he pleases, which ends up being Seth sitting on the middle cushion of the couch with his legs spread and—

And Bill on his knees between them.

“Bill,” Seth starts. Then, when he doesn’t get an answer, “Stefon.”

Bill shushes him before making quick work of his button and zipper. He draws Seth’s cock out from the slit in his boxer-briefs. Bill opens his mouth, eyes fluttering shut, and Seth wishes he could take a picture to commit this scene to memory. It’s absolutely obscene and absolutely _perfect_. 

It’s _nothing_ compared to the velvety slick, incredibly hot sensation of Bill’s mouth around him. Seth’s hips buck without him meaning to but Bill takes it in stride. His throat flexes around Seth’s cock as he takes him in as deep as he can manage, wrapping his hand around what he can’t fit in his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seth pants, fucking gently into Bill’s mouth with each passing moment. Bill’s eyes slip shut, opening in an instant only to fall shut again, as though he can’t manage to keep his eyes open. The blissed out look on his face and the knowledge that come is drying in Bill’s jeans and knowing that Bill just wants to be _good_ , for _Seth_ , it’s all too much. 

“Gonna come.” Seth bites his bottom lip on a louder groan. “Bill, fuck.” 

Bill pulls off long enough to say, “Do it, Meyers,” in a husky tone that’s two-parts Bill and one-part Stefon, and then takes Seth into his mouth again until his lips meet his hand and Seth is just fucking done for.

He thrusts up once more and groans, loud and unbidden, as he comes down Bill’s throat. Stars dance across his vision as Bill swallows around him, drinking down every last drop. 

Bill leans away only when Seth starts to shake. Then, he promptly—if shyly—clambers into Seth’s lap. His arms rest on Seth’s shoulders and, just as naturally, Seth’s hands find Bill’s hips. 

Seth can’t stop staring at Bill’s lips: bright pink and spit-slick. It’s why he misses the first half of Bill’s sentence.

“—We don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

Seth’s hands tighten on Bill’s hips enough to get a startled, almost pained noise from the other man. “No, what? What? No.” 

Bill blinks, then grins. “No?”

“No, we’re talking about this again. Multiple times. Frequently, even.”

Bill laughs, his whole body trembling with it. “Yeah?” He asks in between gasps of laughter. 

“Yes,” Seth says with a broad grin of his own. “I meant it, I’ve wanted this for…” He trails off. 

Bill tilts Seth’s head back with a finger under his chin. “Yeah, I get it,” he says simply. 

They’re staring dopily at each other, and Seth’s cock is still hanging out of his pants, when a knock sounds at the door.

“C’mon, lovebirds, it’s time for the sendoff!” Andy hollers, snickering. He doesn’t wait for an answer and his footsteps carry him away from Bill’s dressing room. 

“Think they’ll know?” Bill asks. There’s a familiar quiver of anxiety in Bill’s voice; it’s a sound Seth has gotten to know well over the years. 

“Probably,” Seth says honestly. “I’m pretty sure you gave me the most ferocious case of sex hair I’ve ever had.”

Bill blushes deeply. 

“I don’t care, though. Let them know.” Seth says it confidently, and even though he wasn’t sure as the words started to slip from his mouth, by the time he’s done, he knows it’s true. 

Bill takes a deep breath and says, “I’m nervous.” 

“That’s okay.”

Bill nods slowly. “Let’s go.” He slides out of Seth’s lap and watches with a grin as Seth tucks himself back into his slacks. When Seth is mostly presentable, Bill extends a hand to help him off the couch. 

Seth stops in front of the mirror just to confirm that, sure enough, his hair is thoroughly rumpled and there’s no doubt what he’s been getting up to. Bill looks marginally more put together, except for his unending blush and the wrinkle to his clothes. 

Bill tugs at his hand and Seth shoots him a smile.

Together, they walk out of the dressing room and back onto the stage. 


End file.
